


The Lonely Witch Club

by moon_opals



Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Amity really doesn't know what to do when it comes to comforting her sibs, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26010646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_opals/pseuds/moon_opals
Summary: Amity is at a loss when it comes to mending broken hearts. She's a Blight, after all.Edric and Emira are at a loss when it comes to getting stood up. They're Blights, after all.Mittens helps Ed and Em get over their Grom night bomb.
Relationships: Amity Blight/Luz Noceda
Comments: 10
Kudos: 248





	The Lonely Witch Club

Blight Manor was characteristically silent upon Amity’s return. 

As she replayed the night’s events, tempted to circumvent the front door and make a break for her window, Amity lifted her head and spotted a figure standing outside the front door.

Distance may have tried and failed to distort the image brought to Amity’s mind. But the presence was persistent.

A woman of an undetermined age stood dressed in a rich, dark blue dress that stopped at her ankles. Her hair shared its hue with the pale, pink rose and was braided in an intricate design Amity knew she’d never have the patience for. However, the pink stood out amongst the dreary greens and greys and blues of the property. 

Of all that, it was the refined yet patient composure. Amity knew the woman would not abandon her post until she crossed the threshold under her eye. It made no point. It wasn’t worth the energy, not now at least. The night’s events still foamed in her heart, so she swallowed whatever annoyance she might’ve felt and trudged the rest of the way.

“Good evening, young miss,” spoken in a rich albeit automatic tone. “Your mother and father wanted to congratulate you on a successful Grom Night.”

“How do they,” she started to ask, then remembered her crown. A quick, nervous glance, she straightened it and nodded firmly, “Yes, thank you, Clemency.”

It took all her strength not to look down the lane where Amity knew another distant blemish in the landscape had previously stood, warm hand entwined in hers. 

“It was an adequate night.”

“Adequate?”

“Yes, Clemency,” she said through gritted teeth, more annoyed than she intended. 

If her annoyance wounded her, Clemency didn’t show it. Her eyebrows, sleeker than a peacock’s feathers, arched with interest. 

“I am pleased to hear it,” she said quietly, right hand clasped around her left, “and I believe your parents will share this pride once they hear the tale.”

The tale, Amity’s stared narrowed, and a knot formed in her throat. “When will they return,” she asked, now bathed in the manor’s moonlight replica. 

Clemency inhaled, a sharp, brittle sound where Amity could hear restraint rattle in her lungs. She heard the door close with a faint click.

“I do not know, young miss,” she approached to rest a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “But it does seem your night,” she paused, breathing through her nose, then patted her shoulder, “went much, much better than you feared.”

It seemed that once the door was closed, preventing others from judging their lack of propriety, the mask they wore so beautifully started to crumble.

Clemency tucked smooth, callus fingers under her chin, prompting her to seek her gaze and smiled. “Oh, my sweet Amity,” lilac moons beheld her, “you seem so happy.”

Amity crumbled in the happiest way possible. Her face fell into the woman’s torso, and she curled her arms around her, grasping at her. To her credit, Clemency didn’t falter or stumble. She gripped Amity with all the ease in the world, smoothing down her hair without disturbing the crown.

“Oh, Auntie,” emotion betrayed her as she whimpered into her dress, “it was amazing.”

“We’ve got time,” she heard the grin she couldn’t see. “Tell me all about it.”

* * *

Cookies and milk. A stereotypical but delicious cliche. Amity shoved another in her mouth and repeated the scene, making sure she didn’t miss the tiniest detail. Nothing was too small for this, and she needed Clemency to understand.

She needed to understand the solemnity and depth of these feelings. She needed to grasp Luz Noceada’s eternal sunshine. And what this sunshine had done to her. 

Impossible! Absolutely impossible to convey every thriving emotion in her being in oral or written language, or that was what Amity believed. It couldn’t be done, but that didn’t stop her from trying. 

“Mensi, you should’ve seen her,” she gasped, one arm resting on her forehead while the other reached for the plate of cookies on the bed. “She was amazing, and you wouldn’t think a human could be that amazing. But she is.”

“It’s unheard of.”

“Insane,” her eyes bugged. “She’s insane,” she sighed. “And I have never felt this way for someone? What do I do?”

Clemency lied in Amity’s bed, half of a cookie in her mouth, and Amity lied on Clemency’s lap. It was like she was four years old again and was hurt due to some prank Edric and Emira had played on her, but this time was different. So much better. So much bigger than her toddler disappointment.

“Unless you confess,” she prodded teasingly, “then, just be her friend, and she sounds like a good friend.”

“She is a good friend.” She rolled her eyes, “She makes a lot of mistakes.”

“As folks do.”

“But she tries so hard to do what’s right.” She smirked, “Certainly not like my old friends.”

She smoothed her hair, chewing thoughtfully. “They were your handlers,” she clarified with her mouth half full. “They were meant to keep you in your social class.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, biting into her own cookie sadly. “I hurt a lot of people.”

“You did,” she hummed. “But the difference is you’re trying to make amends, like this Luz.”

“Yeah, I am.” Her thoughts trailed to Willow. Sweet, soft spoken, compassionate, intelligent and dangerous Willow, who Amity had abandoned and bullied. Who was placed in the wrong coven. Whose skills were gigantic for the coven she was meant to be in. 

Who’d given Amity a second chance.

As if reading her thoughts, Clemency cupped her cheek. “I am happy you and Willow are getting close again,” she whispered. “Really, I am. But doesn’t it seem this school year is exceptionally dangerous?”

“What?” Amity’s scoffed, “no, it isn’t. Remember when that one kid got eaten by Scylla?”

“I thought Scylla retired,” her ears pulled back in surprise. She tilted her head in sympathy, “Poor kid.”

As Clemency lamented the fate of the poor unnamed child - Ichabod Huntsman, Amity traveled around her room, searching for any differences. It only made sense for things to have changed, yet, everything seemed the same. Her room was no different than it was the morning she awoke, or several hours earlier when she laid her dress on her bed, debating whether it was too pink or not pink enough.

 _Ridiculous,_ the word tethered to her tongue. Hard to accept the want she possessed in her heart, an unwarranted drive to impress another person beyond the scope of societal and financial gain. Infatuation, Amity pieced together, defied and mocked the foundation her ancestors had laid and her parents nurtured. 

But with Luz on her mind, pressed into her heart as tenderly as a wilted flower on paper and left in Clemency’s embrace, she wasn’t afraid. How could she be? Although she’d have to face her parents in the morning and meet their heavy stares, full of ready criticisms, nothing could take away from this. 

“Mensi,” she said through half lidded eyes.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Have you ever felt this way? For someone else?”

The smooth lines around her eyes and mouth stiffened but briefly. A sad smile said what her tongue could not. “Yes,” she cupped Amity’s cheeks and rested her forehead atop hers, “a very long time ago, before you were born.”

Her brow furrowed, betraying the sudden fear in her heart. “What happened,” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. Breath was stilted in her lungs, adding volume to the point of pain. But speaking would forfeit the chase.

Clemency sighed, raising her head. “I had to let her go,” her thumbs ran circles along her cheeks. “She was meant for bigger things.”

“Do you think it’ll happen to me?”

“Sweetie, you’d be the one doing big things,” she snorted,

No, Amity wanted to say, no, I won’t. At least, they wouldn’t compare to Luz. Again, she was placed in an area where she couldn’t describe the truth, couldn’t string together the many truths. 

Or maybe that was what Clemency couldn’t do? Staring sadly at her, eyes suddenly misty, Amity returned to the present when a cry echoed into her room.

“What the,” she frowned, unsure. A second sob followed, then a third and so forth. Curiosity pulled her out of Clemency’s arms. 

“Oh, right,” Clemency drawled. “I forgot about them.”

“Who?” Leaning on her elbow, she sought answers, “It sounds like a dying catdeer.”

She laughed shortly. “I suppose that’s an accurate description,” she tucked her wrist under her chin. “It’s Emira and Edric.”

“What?”

Seeing the lowbrow smirk on her face wasn’t surprising but was confusing. “Amity, did you notice them at all tonight,” she grinned.

Amity pouted. “Well, no,” she admitted, and she wondered if she should have? After all, they were her older siblings and didn’t need chaperones. 

“Don’t worry about that,” sensing her concern, she sliced through the air to dismiss them. “They’re just upset,” she stood, taking a deep breath, “their dates stood them up.”

Her eyes widened. “No,” she gasped.

“Yes,” she rolled her neck. “I’m pretty sure they ate through the brownies and cookies I made for them. Don’t worry though, they’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe they got stood up.”

She clicked her tongue, “Be nice, Amity.” Her grin softened the reprimand, “I’m sure their would be dates had completely justifiable reasons for their absence.”

“Because they’re the worst?”

“Yeah, they are, but not as horrible as your father,” she winked. Her lips found Amity’s cheek, “Now, off to bed. Don’t worry, I’ll check on them.” With learned expertise, she tucked Amity into bed, lingering at the door. 

“Mensi,” sleep slurred her tongue, but she saw the woman standing, waiting at the door. Lingering as a ghost would.

“Yes, my Mitty?”

Sleep claimed her response, but Amity liked to think it was thanks.

* * *

Amity sought sleep in the usual way, though she did not dream. One moment, her eyes were half way open and locked on Clemency in the doorframe. The next moment she gazed at the window through squinted eyes, suddenly aware something was amiss in her room.

Perhaps, a chill in the air or a scent stirred her. Amy didn’t know, couldn’t tell, but she rose stiffly, elbow deep in her mattress. “What in the world,” she murmured sleepily, rubbing her eyes. 

“Quiet, Mittens,” came the groggy response, as did a hand swiping down to silence her.

A yelp throttled in Amity’s throat but tangled as she pushed back across the bed. Her foot struck something mushy and breakable, earning a groan, but she didn’t care. All she knew was that she needed to get out and out now.

“Amity,” another, quieter but scratchier, voice groaned, “please, keep it down.”

Heart struggling to free itself, Amity gripped the edge of her bed, confused and panicked. “Wait,” she squinted, “Emira?”

“Ugh…”

Shock gave way to frustration. “Wait a second,” she flung the comforter over. “Edric?”

Curled in balls to the left and bottom, Emira and Edric glared weakly at their youngest sister. 

“Mittens, seriously,” Edric yawned. “We’re trying to sleep.”

“Yeah, in my bed,” she gestured. “Why?”

Emira scoffed, gripping the pillow tightly. “Obviously, we’re sad and needed our baby sister’s comfort,” she grumbled. “And we ran out of cookies.”

* * *

Silence charms kept the stairs quiet. “But that doesn’t mean Mom and Dad won’t wake up,” Amity whispered, “so keep quiet.”

Edric and Emira obeyed this. No one wanted to explain to their parents why they were downstairs after curfew and certainly not why they were removing a stone in the wall.

“This is where Mensi keeps comfort snacks,” Amity explained. Grabbing armfuls of bat teethos, bloody licorice worms and gremlin heartdrops. 

“Wait,” Emira stepped forward, pushing Edric aside, “Mensi has a secret junk food stash?”

Amity rolled her eyes. “Yes, of course she does,” shaking her head, she walked ahead. Clemency had multiple secret stashes in the manor, and she was not inclined to indulge the locations.

Except this time. Just this once.

Back in her room, she sat on her bed. Edric and Emira flanked her sides, each gripping a bag of snacks.

“What do we do,” Edric asked, cutting open the bag of bloody worms. He picked the fattest, squirmiest one and slurped it up in one go. “Eat our sadness away?”

“You do know this is your job, right,” Amity snapped quietly. “You're older than me.”

Emira stuffed bat teethos into her mouth. “Yeah, we are,” she sniffed and chewed, “but we’re emotionally compromised and Mensi isn’t here.”

“Mensi is at her house.”

“She has a house,” Edric gasped through half-eaten worms, “can a housekeeper do that?”

Amity inhaled, closing her eyes to breathe through her nose. “Yes, yes, she can,” she grimaced. “Her house is on the property, but enough of that. What do you want from me?”

Emira and Edrica exchanged a blank stare, then sobered. “Comfort,” they sobbed. 

In their hearts and mouths a dam burst. Amity was confronted with the full weight of the rejection her siblings’ received. Emira dropped her face in her hands, heaving quietly. Edric pulled on his ears, pushing more worms into his mouth until Amity was sure they’d slip out of his nose.

For a brief second, Amity was worried she’d slipped into a wormhole. Edric and Emira, even on their worst days, had never displayed such misery, such spit hot emotion. Also, snot and tears were dripping onto her bed. 

“Ew,” she grimaced, then sighed. “Okay, it’s…,” she paused, hand outstretched. It struck Amity then that she was completely helpless at this level. This situation was unlike any she’d ever fallen in. Edric and Emira were, well, Edric and Emira. They weren’t like Boscha, Skara, Gus, Willow or Luz. Amity knew what to do there, if theoretically, and though the same applied here, she didn’t know if she wanted to.

With their pillar of support across the way, nestled in her cottage, this meant there was no one else, and as fiercely as they protected the facade, she knew they feared their parents’ disapproval just as much, possibly exceeding Amity’s own.

So she inhaled, shoulders rising, and she resisted, moving her head an inch to the side while thoughts debated against each other. Yes. Why? No. Why? Her nostrils flared.

She reached forward, patting Emira’s head. “There, there,” she gritted her teeth, “it’s going to be alright.”

“No, my life is ruined,” she trembled.

Amity silenced her scoff. “Yeah, your life is not ruined,” she swallowed a sigh and patted Edric’s shoulder. "Your dramatics aren't helping.”

“Dramatic?” Edric glared, “I am not being dramatic.” His lips trembled, and he whimpered, “That’s what Khalid said.”

“Khalid?”

Edric sighed, “Yeah, but he didn’t say it like you did. He said it in a totally _‘I can’t believe we’re friends’_ thing.”  
  
“You have friends?”

Edric and Emira raised their heads to glare.

“What,” she raised her hands, defensively. “You have to admit it’s hard to believe.” _Or not_. Her siblings were fun if morally inhibited, and most importantly, for teenagers, fun didn't need to align with morality.

However, from what she could infer, this was different. Maybe, they weren’t quite friends. But if not friends? Then what?

Emira was the first to concede. “Yeah,” she said quietly, looking away. “Fair enough. Jessamine said something about extra credit.”

“Khalid mentioned something about his pet manticore,” Edric added.

“Wait, so,” Amity pulled her hands away, “so, they technically didn’t stand you up?”

Amity understood words. Stood up meant they didn't show. Didn't call. Didn't tell them anything. Stood up meant they weren't interested, and possibly, they weren't interested. _Good,_ a traitorous thought snickered. She dismissed it quickly and returned to the task at hand. "You need to explain," she insisted, irritated.

“We were,” Edric insisted. “We thought they’d come around.”

“I thought she’d finish her extra credit sooner.”

Edric nodded, “And I thought his manticore wouldn’t be sick?”

“But his manticore was sick,” Amity slapped her forehead. “You couldn't ask him how his pet is doing? Losing a pet is hard."

His ears fell down, as did his expression. “Oh,” he puckered, abashed.

“And you,” she snapped to Emira. “I don’t know Jessamine’s curriculum or grades, but I know people don’t take extra credit for the fun of it.”

“Unless it’s reading to kids at the library?”

“Yes, that,” Amity deadpanned. “My point is Jessamine’s work is important to her. Asking about it. Offer to help.”

She didn't know what was worse, their obliviousness or how simple these solutions were. Amity didn't know whether she was angrier at their selfishness or the fact someone had shown interest in them while she dangled helplessly in the wind. A scream wanted to tear out of her mouth, but their parents lurked nearby, either in an office or their bedroom. Seemingly aware but not. 

“Oh.”

“Right.”

The twins studied each other, frowning. Emira shifted, pressing her back on the headboard. “I think,” she said, pulling her knees to her chin, “Mittens made a good point. A _really_ good point.”

“I didn’t…,” Edric started, then grew silent. It was as if what he thought wrestled with what was. He must've seen he'd come up short. “I think I should call Khalid,” he swung his legs over the edge. 

“Yeah,” Amity said. “You should.”

“Jessamine probably doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Maybe,” Amity couldn’t deny the satisfaction at saying that. “Maybe not. You won’t know until you try.” 

“But what if -,”

“It’s late,” she interjected, impatiently. “And you can choose to be a better witch, or,” she said slyly, a ghost of a grin teasing them, “you can stay in the lonely witch club. It’s your choice.”

Edric chuckled, “At least it’s a party of three.”

“It isn’t,” Amity corrected. “I have friends.”

It was then Amity knew she’d ventured too far, crossing a boundary she'd established. Shifting the table unknowingly, the spotlight was on her. Rather than fear and panic, she felt a wave of calm. Somehow, she knew her brother and sister had strayed from their mockery.

“That’s great, Amity,” Emira smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. She squeezed gently, “Really.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Edric winked. “Really really.”

“Oh,” she blushed, scratching her neck. “Thanks.”

Smiling sadly, Emira and Edric nodded. “Right,” they said, grabbing their candy and chips. “You get back to sleep. We’ve got a lot to think about.”

Amity slipped under her blanket, “Yeah, I’ve got a lot of sleep to catch up on, so out.”

“Typical Mittens.”

A grin, a chuckle and asleep again. Amity didn’t know how long she slept, but time passed. The second time she awoke, night had thinned and sunrise was on the horizon.

* * *

She stretched and rolled, feeling joints pop in satisfaction. Blinking at the window, she rested a hand on her stomach with the other on her pillow.

“Did that happen last night,” she thought.

From Grom to Mensi to Edric and Emira, was it real? Amity raised her hand, the hand that held Luz’s the night before, and clarity sang its triumph.

“Right,” she murmured. “That happened.”

Her sentiments for the day metabolized the second her feet touched the floor. Annoyance prickled at the corners of her eyes. Emira and Edric left a mess, but clean up was not an urgency.

Sleep threaded her eyelashes in a sticky crust. Her wrists cradled them; the preliminary swipe of the crush. She stepped into the coldness of her adjacent bathroom and met her reflection. A slightly sagging stare, smooth ivory skin and appropriately tousled hair spoke ‘Good morning, Amity!’

Red dots glared on her cheeks where her fingers had pressed, then dragged. “Last night happened,” she said to the glass. She waited, glaring at the girl as if the girl in the mirror would snap a retort in response.

It happened. Grom. The dance. Luz’s fear. Amity’s fear. And the touch of Luz’s hand in her own. Her arm secured around her waist. Her breath slipping along her neck, only for a moment. A beautiful, agonizing moment.

Amity leaned to the mirror, gripping sink to where her phalanges ache. She didn’t care. “Am I different,” she mouthed wordlessly. 

Should a change exist? If so, where? She searched and couldn’t see. Nothing had changed, but everything had changed. All was the same, and yet, squinting revealed minuscule transformations.

Her cheeks were flushed. Her head spun. A frog leapt in her throat and tap danced on her heart. Changes had metabolized inside and remained unseen, which was good. Very good.  
  
“Young miss?”

Amity spun in a perfect circle. Her grip turned backward on the sink with her back pressed on cool porcelain.“Yes,” she forced through and was ashamed at the squeakiness of her voice. So tiny. So insignificant.

Clemency sighed, like a mother or an aunt. “I am leaving your crystal ball on your bed,” she soothed. “Miss Boscha and Miss Skara called.”

“Oh.”

“I put them on an indefinite hold.”

“Huh,” her shoulders relaxed. “Thanks,” she chuckled. “Anything else?”

“Yes.” Amity imagined she stood next to the bed, fingers entwined in a docile position and hair pinned in its usual braided bun. A cut smooth amethyst stare eyeing the door, suspicious of what was done behind the door but respectful to never inquire.

“And?”

“Your parents have not awakened,” Clemency reassured. “But a Miss Luz called for you. I suspect you would like to return her call soon.” Preferably before your parents awake said the warning.

Amity touched her hair and inhaled. “Yes, thank you, Clemency,” she said in a calmer, stiffer tone. “I will.”

“Good,” she heard the smile in her voice. “Very well, young miss, do not dawdle.”

The door closed. Amity didn’t hear it opening.

Hand on her chest, stare at the door, she panted, confused and excited, and returned to her reflection. Still tousled. Still unseemly. 

“A new day, a new dawn,” she grinned, then squinted. In the thicket of her hair, barely noticeable, she saw a wiggle. Slowly she moved to her hairline, above her right eyebrow, and plucked. 

“What the,” she grunted, freeing the creature trapped in her hair. It conceded without much of a fight, and soon, she was staring at a wiggling worm, sprinkled with sugar.

Amity growled, “Edric.” 

She scooped the worm in her palm and marched back into her room. Giving Edric the satisfaction wasn’t on today’s agenda.

**Author's Note:**

> I am trying very, very hard not to go into AU territory. I wanted Amity to have some positive familial relationships. Edric and Emira are getting there, but they really need a good "parental" figure, though Clemency is more than a simple housekeeper. Their parents aren't cutting it.


End file.
